“Could you write to her?”

“A ripping idea!  I never thought of that.  I’ll write to-morrow.  I’ll be glad to get it off my mind.  Somehow, when one’s been through all this, one feels quite differently about things.”

The entrance of tea trays interrupted the conversation.  Miss Beach returned in company with a nurse, and reminded her niece that if they wished to catch their train home they must be starting at once.  It was hard to say good-by, but Winona went away infinitely comforted.  Dearly as she had always loved the old Percy, she felt the new one whom she had met to-day had the makings of a stronger and finer character than she had ever dared to hope.

“The Commandant gives an excellent report of him,” said Miss Beach as they drove away.  “I asked her particularly if there were any likelihood of his remaining lame, but she says not.  The surgeon declares he’ll have him back in the trenches in the autumn.”

“How glorious!  Percy’s just wild to go back.  I believe he’ll do something splendid, and get a commission, or perhaps win the Victoria Cross!”

Winona’s face shone.  She had been proud of Percy to-day.

The long journey home to Seaton was very tedious, though not quite so trying as the morning one, for they were able to catch the boat express to Lapton and have tea on the train.  At Lapton Junction, however, they were obliged to change to a local line, and jog along at the rate of about thirty miles an hour in a particularly dusty compartment.  It had been a hard day for Miss Beach.  She looked very weary as she leaned back in her corner, so overdone indeed that Winona was afraid she was going to have one of her heart attacks.  The threatened trouble passed, however, and as the evening grew cooler she seemed to revive.  The trains were late, so it was nearly ten o’clock before they at last reached home.

“‘Mighty pleased with our day’s outing,’ to quote Mr. Pepys,” said Aunt Harriet.  “It was worth going!”

“If it hasn’t tired you too much!” Winona ventured to add.

On the following Sunday morning Miss Beach received a letter from Percy.  She made no comment upon it at the time, but in the evening, after church, when she and Winona were walking in the garden in the twilight, she referred to it.

“I’m deeply touched by Percy’s letter,” she remarked.  “I did not think the boy had such nice feeling in him.  You understand, of course, what he has written to me about?”

“Oh, Aunt Harriet, has he told you?” burst out Winona.  “Oh, I’m so very, very glad!  I’ve been longing and yearning to tell you all these years, only I couldn’t, because I’d promised—­and—­oh, I must tell you now—­I asked you about your will—­and you thought I was horrid and scheming—­but it wasn’t that at all—­it was that I thought you ought to know the will wasn’t there, and hoped that perhaps you’d look!  Oh, please believe me that I didn’t mean to hint that you should leave anything to me!  I